


help me hold on (to you)

by timelesslords



Series: Heroes of Olympus One Shots [6]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, POV Percy Jackson, Panic Attacks, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Post-The Blood of Olympus (Heroes of Olympus), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swordfighting, but there's some fluff at the end don't worry, i hated the original title lol, me? writing from a not Annabeth POV? it's more likely than you think, this is so introspective I'm so sorry, yes i renamed this after a taylor swift lyric 3 days after i posted it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelesslords/pseuds/timelesslords
Summary: Percy Jackson was having a really good day, right up until he wasn't.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: Heroes of Olympus One Shots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113620
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	help me hold on (to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags! it's probably not the most realistic panic attack/flashback type thing, but it does take up the majority of the fic so please be wary if that's something that bothers you <3

Percy Jackson was having a really good day. 

He’d woken up on time (rare), no nightmares at all (more rare). Convinced Annabeth to break the rules and sit with him at breakfast, which she did more often than not these days anyways, but he still considered it a win. All he had to do was teach a sword fighting lesson in the morning, and then he and Annabeth were going to hang out by the lake in the afternoon. Or maybe in the lake. Jury was still out on the specifics, but he was looking forward to it either way.

And he liked doing the sword fighting lessons too. It made him feel useful. They’d gotten a few new campers this week, so today was just supposed to be for going over some basics, maybe a couple of fun moves if they had time. 

It started out fine. He taught them some basic strikes and parries, which they picked up pretty quickly. They still seemed a little unsure of themselves, but that was to be expected. Most of them were pretty young, maybe 12 or 13 if he had to guess. He remembered how intimidated he’d been at that age, working with a sword for the first time. 

Clarisse’s presence probably wasn’t helping either. She was scheduled to teach them how to use spears after they were done with the swords. Apparently, she had nowhere better to be until then, or maybe she just liked scaring the newbies. If that was her intention, she was doing a pretty good job. She was cleaning dirt from under her nails with an almost comically large knife, and anyone who dared to so much as dared to glance her way was treated to an exceptionally dirty look. 

“Alright guys,” Percy said, gathering them around after their second water break. It was stifling hot, even with the camp’s magical proclivity for mild weather, “This is a cool move. If you do it right, you can use it to disarm your enemy.” 

Percy wondered if he would ever get used to so many curious eyes staring at him, waiting with bated breath for his every word. Apparently he had a sort of legend status around camp now. Whether it came from the Titan War stuff or the disappearing and coming back stuff or the big T rumors, he wasn’t sure. If he was honest, it made him a little uncomfortable, but it did make doing lessons easier, knowing everyone would listen to him. He could almost feel Clarisse rolling her eyes behind him, so that was there to keep him humble, at least. 

He pulled one of the kids up, demonstrating the same disarming move Luke had taught him during his first lesson. He did it fast and then slow a few times, explaining every step of the move so they could do it themselves. 

“You try it on me.” he said to the kid he’d pulled up to demo with. It seemed only fair, given that Percy had disarmed him five times in a row. 

“Me?” the kid asked, dubiously. Percy probably should have remembered his name, but he was new, really new. New enough that he hadn’t even been claimed yet. 

“Yeah. I’ll go easy on you, I promise.” 

The kid didn’t look totally convinced but Percy gave him a reassuring smile. The kid squared his shoulders and raised his sword.

True to his word, Percy went easy on him. Percy even gave him a very convenient opening to try out the move he’d just learned. Percy saw the recognition in his eyes, and then a panicked sort of determination as he twisted his sword around Percy’s, putting his weight into the thrust. 

As soon as his sword was pushed out of his grip, Percy knew he had made a mistake. 

He hadn’t even thought about the last time he’d dropped his sword when he’d started the lesson, but suddenly the moment came rushing back with frightening clarity. Breathing in acrid air, staring down thousands of monsters. Watching, horrified, as the physical embodiment of the pit rose from the ground. A sickening hopeless feeling settling over him, feeling terror so immense and overpowering that Riptide had slipped through his fingers, clattering to the ground. 

There’d been a lot of points in his life where Percy had thought he was going to die. But standing by the Doors of Death, facing down an army of monsters and Tartarus itself– he’d never been more sure he was a dead man than in that moment. Worse, dropping his sword meant he couldn’t hope to defend Annabeth either. He’d as good as left her alone the second the hilt of his sword had fallen out of his hands. And now Riptide was on the ground again, and he couldn’t tell if it was the slimy skin-like surface of Tartarus, or the dry dirt-packed flooring of the arena. 

Something in his chest constricted, and suddenly Percy couldn’t breathe. 

He was vaguely aware of the kid who’d disarmed him looking at him strangely. His expression was halfway between triumphant and confused, and in another few seconds it would probably morph into fear. Percy wasn’t going to be around to see it. He felt himself picking up his sword on pure instinct, and before he could even think about what he was doing he was walking or maybe running, not really sure where exactly, except that he had to get away. 

He barely even registered Clarisse yelling something at him as he left. Everything around him felt fuzzy and detached, like he was in a dream. He still couldn’t get a full breath in, and that was bad for a lot of reasons, but right now all he could think about was how much it felt like he was drowning– 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to cut off the thought. It was too late, obviously it was too late, and that just made his breath come even shorter and shallower somehow. 

Percy found himself in a dim corner of the arena, the little space where they stored the practice dummies and extra swords. He sat down on a ledge, trying to control his breathing. It wasn’t working. This had been a bad place to stop, the darkness and shadows tricking his brain into seeing things that he knew weren’t really there.

Or maybe they were. Maybe this was all just a dream or a vision or some hallucination baked up by his mind, because he’d never actually left and went crazy down there. 

_ Quit it, _ he thought to himself. His mind did not quit it. Just his luck. 

He shut his eyes again. He couldn’t decide which was worse, the memories his mind fed him when he closed his eyes, or the images it implanted on everything when they were open. 

“Percy?” 

He didn’t open his eyes. He knew that it was Annabeth, he’d recognize her voice anywhere. But if he opened his eyes, he was so sure that he’d see her shrouded in death mist, a sickly rotting corpse. Confirmation that they’d never actually left, and these past few weeks had just been a fever dream of some kind. 

“Percy.” she said again, softer this time. She wouldn’t sound so unafraid if they were still down there, but Percy barely trusted his own senses at this point. Maybe he was just hearing what he wanted to hear. 

“Percy, you have to put down your sword.” 

He hadn’t even realized it, but he was gripping Riptide harder than he’d ever held anything in his life. His fingers had gone numb from the effort of it. 

“I– I can’t. I can’t drop it again.” 

Even those few words took an enormous amount of effort and a significant chunk of whatever breath he’d managed to catch in the past few minutes. He had no idea how long it had been, but if his lightheadedness was anything to go by it was longer than it felt like.

“Hey. Look at me.” Annabeth said. Her voice was firmer now, a little less forgiving. It was her  _ listen up or we’re both going to die _ voice, the one she only used when they were in trouble, she had a plan, and he needed to cooperate. He was pretty sure there was something hardwired into his brain that made him listen to that voice, and it pushed through everything else; forcing him to pry open his eyes.

He looked at her feet first, because he didn’t think he could handle seeing her face if she still had death mist on her. She was wearing her white sneakers. Her legs looked normal, tanned and very much not deathly. 

“My eyes are up here, Seaweed Brain.” she said. Maybe she had meant it as a joke, but it came out impossibly gentle, and just a touch sad. She probably knew what he was afraid of seeing. That didn’t make him feel much better, but he let his eyes travel upwards anyways.

She looked like her normal self, healthy and whole. Her cheeks were a little red, maybe from the sun, or maybe from running over here from wherever she’d been before. He could see in her eyes she was upset, even though the clench of her jaw gave away that she was trying to hide it. A sword was hastily strapped to her side— not the drakon bone one, just regular celestial bronze— probably because he was clutching Riptide like his life depended on it, and she wasn’t an idiot. 

He was glad. He was also glad she was still a few feet away, because if she’d come up to him when his eyes had been closed– no. He wasn’t going to think about that. She was too smart to do that, and he would have known it was her, he would have had to have known–

“Percy, you have to put the sword away.” 

The firm tone was back. It had worked to get him to open his eyes, but he didn’t think he could let his sword go even if he wanted to, and he still wasn’t 100% sure he wanted to. 

“I don’t… I don’t think I can.” 

Breathing had gotten a little easier since he’d seen her face, but his lungs hadn’t fully caught up to his brain yet. Every gasp of air still felt like a struggle. He saw Annabeth’s expression shift. It wasn’t pity, not quite– understanding maybe? A hint of something else, a hardened resolve. She had a plan. She always had a plan.

“Stay still.” she ordered, and before he could tell her not to, she made her way towards him. 

He couldn’t get in enough air to tell her to stop, so he just followed her instruction instead, forcing himself to freeze, to not move at all. It was surprisingly easy. 

She came around from the side, and Percy didn’t understand why until she slid her hand into his pocket, pulling out Riptide’s cap. Annabeth pressed it to the tip of his sword, shrinking it back into a pen. 

Percy was half-worried that was going to trigger him again, but the sensation of his sword transforming was familiar, comforting. Not at all like it slipping out of his hands. Annabeth took the pen from him anyways, slipping it into her own pocket. It would come back to his eventually, and they both knew it. 

But without the weight of his sword in his hands, Percy’s breath started to come easier. His head got less foggy, his vision a little clearer. Annabeth was crouched in front of him, one hand holding his, one on his cheek; touch feather-light. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until she brushed the tears away with her thumb.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. She was just worried now, the determination in her face faded away. 

Percy caught one full breath, and then another. He tried to copy Annabeth, who was breathing long and slow, probably for his benefit, but he tried not to think about that. He focused on her hands, warm and calloused, the smell of her hair, familiar and lemony. He could feel the last edges of his panic slip away; his heartbeat returned to a normal speed, his hands stopped shaking, his eyes dried and his throat cleared. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, finally. 

“Don’t be sorry.” she said. Her eyes were still full of concern, the hand on his face had travelled up slightly; she was brushing sweaty hair off his forehead, running her fingers through it. It would be easy to just get lost in her touch, but he could tell more was coming. 

“What happened? Clarisse just said you were doing a demo and then you suddenly freaked out.” 

In fairness, that was more or less how it had gone down, but Percy couldn’t resist buying himself a little time.

“Clarisse was the one who got you?” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes at that, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“No, she got one of the news kids to do it. They were scared half to death when they found me, she probably threatened to chop their arm off or something.” 

“Classic Clarisse.” Percy said. He’d meant it to come off as sarcastic, but it was really more fond. Terrorizing a new camper aside, he owed her one for that. She could have easily just left him alone, assumed he would deal with it. He’d been lucky she was there in the first place. 

Annabeth smiled, but she was quiet. Waiting for details. Percy sighed.

“I was showing them how to disarm. I let one of them practice on me, only I didn’t think…” he trailed off. Riptide had appeared back in his pocket sometime in the past few minutes. He could feel the weight of it, and Annabeth had probably felt the loss. 

“It just reminded me of when I dropped my sword.” Percy finished. He couldn’t look at Annabeth’s eyes, suddenly. They were too understanding, too kind. Too many emotions that he didn’t deserve, not when he’d failed that badly and almost gotten them both killed because of it. 

“Percy, you can’t beat yourself up about that.” Annabeth said, squeezing his hand a little. 

“How could I not?” 

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so heavily, but his throat was starting to feel tight again, and all his words felt thick and unstable on his tongue. 

“Look.” she said, and he knew she meant it figuratively and literally from the way her thumb slid under his chin, applying the barest amount of pressure, just enough so that he would look back up at her, “We were in an impossible situation. Your body got overwhelmed. It happens, and it doesn’t mean anything about you as a person. It just means that you’re human.” 

Percy had a thousand arguments to that swirling in his head, but one look into her grey eyes and they all seemed to shrink away. He hadn’t forgiven himself for it, not quite, but she was treating it as something that didn’t need to be forgiven in the first place. He could debate her if he wanted to, but he’d lose. There was a funny kind of comfort in knowing that he would probably never win an argument against her, as long as she put her mind to it. 

He had a feeling she would put her mind into this one, if he was brave enough to try. He decided he wasn’t.

“The newbies are gonna think I’m lame, now.” Percy said. It was a bad attempt at lightening the mood, considering that he couldn’t keep how much it bothered him out of his voice. Having a breakdown in the middle of a lesson was not his finest moment, and he had a feeling that word of the incident was going to spread. Annabeth just laughed, soft and light as her touch.

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Your reputation was getting a little too godlike around here.” 

She had a point, she always did. Although if he was going to knock himself down a few pegs, he would have preferred to do it in a dumber way. He could have dropped a plate in the dining pavilion or tripped during capture the flag or something. Something embarrassing and lame that everyone could tease him about. 

Nobody was going to tease him about this. 

And it wasn’t just the fact that everyone was going to be walking on eggshells around him now, though that was bad enough on his own. It was the fact that he’d been those kids' first intro into camp and sword fighting and protecting themselves, and he couldn’t keep it together enough to even pretend like they were in for a good time. He’d basically said  _ Welcome to camp! In five years you’ll have a boat-load of trauma and won’t even be able to do a simple demonstration without having a panic attack!  _

And, okay, maybe (hopefully) most of them weren’t in for as rough a time as he’d had. And in between almost dying for a few weeks every summer, camp had always been amazing. But he still felt like he’d given those kids a little glimpse at their future, shattered the carefully crafted illusion that being here would make them safe.

Annabeth’s eyes were studying his face, like he was a particularly tricky puzzle she was trying to solve. He knew she was trying to figure out what he was thinking, but Percy didn’t really want to talk about it. Not now, anyways. Later maybe, but now he just wanted this all to be over. 

“I should probably go apologize to the class.” Percy said, changing the subject again. Annabeth let him, because she was nice like that. 

“You might want to wait a little bit.” Annabeth suggested, her voice a little too innocent, “Maybe tomorrow or something.” 

Percy almost asked why, but then he remembered he’d spent at least a half hour having a meltdown, and he probably looked pretty terrible right now. She was being nice about it, but going back to the main arena now would be a bad idea for everyone involved. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Percy sighed. She was always right. That was comforting too. 

“C’mon.” Annabeth said, tugging at his hand, “We can sneak out the back, go hang out by the lake.”

That was a tempting proposition, even if he’d completely ruined the mood. But being near the water would be good, and being with Annabeth would be better. 

He stood up, still holding her hand as she straightened up from the crouch she’d been in. He saw a wince flutter across her face. 

“You okay?” 

She looked surprised that he’d asked, which given the state of things was fair, but he also suspected she was putting it on a little to downplay how much it hurt. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just the ankle again.” 

She bit her bottom lip as she put pressure on it, but she wasn’t limping, at least. Percy frowned anyways. 

“You should really get that checked out.”

“It’s fine.” 

Percy dropped it. He wasn’t really in a position to be dictating states of fine-ness himself, even if he suspected the injury wasn’t as healed as she let on. Sneaking out of the arena was easy. They held hands as they walked through camp, which was blessedly pretty empty, with everyone but them being at their assigned activities.

“So, I know you said we should hang out  _ by _ the lake,” Percy started. 

“I did say that.” Annabeth agreed. He could tell she knew where he was going by the sparkle in her eye, and the way she was suppressing a smile.

“But have you considered we could hang out  _ in _ the lake instead?” 

“I think I could be convinced.” Annabeth said, nonchalantly, “You’re going to have to catch me though.”

With that, she dropped his hand and started sprinting towards the lake, getting a solid head start on him before he’d even realized what she’d done.

“Hey!” there was laughter in his voice as he broke into a run. She was probably laughing at him too, but she was too far ahead of him to hear. 

He thought she might slow down when she got to the end of the dock. He was wrong. Annabeth jumped in the lake, shoes and all, completely trusting that he would follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up so much longer than I meant it to be, I'm not used to writing male POVs so I hope this wasn't too all over the place 😅 But I write so much hurt/comfort for Annabeth I figured it was Percy's turn to get whumped a little lol


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